If
by HiILikeDragonsArchive
Summary: AU. He never went back to find that dragon in the cove, until it was too late. He dropped out of training, put down the inventions, and buried his murderer hands in a bowl of flour and dough. He could've lived with that secret forever- if she hadn't paid so much attention.
1. Chapter 1

**Baker AU. Written 9/20/2014.**

"Y'know. I'm not saying Hiccup's attractive or anything," Ruffnut inspected her nails as she spoke with moderate interest. "But if he made his deliveries in the buff, I'd definitely invite him in."

Astrid's upper lip twitched with annoyance, caught somewhere between a grimace of disgust and a sneer. "There's flour on his face."

The bakery the chief's son had taken over in the past few years smelled fresh. It was a little too warm to be comfortable, heat radiating in delicious waves past the doorway where Astrid was leaning. Hoark's wife was positively ogling the baker's arms, bared by his rolled-up shirt sleeves and littered with burns from hot pans. The smile she gave him when he passed her a steaming loaf wrapped in parchment was hungry– and not for bread.

The woman lowered her eyes as she ducked past Astrid and Ruffnut. The Hofferson girl hardly noticed, the coin in her fist cutting into her palm as she glared inside.

Her gaze was drawn to the way his forearms twitched and flexed as he returned to kneading a bowl of dough. She could see the tendons in his hands working, make out the way his broadening shoulders rolled through every motion. His expression of concentration was focused as he worked, his brow furrowed and his teeth buried in his lower lip. And there was still flour on his stupid face. Splattered along his jawline and at his temple.

Ruffnut cleared her throat then, making Astrid cut her gaze to her face. Then she realized that the girl had made the noise to get _Hiccup's_ attention. Or at least that was what she'd go with.

The young baker's head snapped up, and his eyes widened. "Oh. Ruffnut, hey, I've got your– Astrid!" The bowl clattered as he accidentally knocked it sideways. "H-hey– hi, Astrid! Hi!"

Ruffnut strode easily into the little bakery. Her companion followed at a less than enthusiastic pace. "I'm here for _buns_ ," the Thorston girl announced easily, her grin borderline lascivious.

"Ah– yeah–" Hiccup wiped his hands off on his apron and knelt to retrieve a package from beneath the counter. "They should still be warm," he said as he handed the pan over.

Ruff deposited her money in his hand, and Astrid noticed the way her eyes followed beneath his apron to his pants pocket. For someone who claimed to find Hiccup _not attractive or anything_ she was very observant.

That was when she found Hiccup's eyes on her. If it weren't for years of practiced stoicism, she'd have jumped. Astrid sharpened her glare a little but stepped forward and dropped her coin on his work table. "My mom needs two loaves," she informed him flatly.

His grin was crooked. "I'm about to put some in now. Do you wait on them or come back later?"

Astrid sighed, aggravatingly inconvenienced by her mother's recent raid injury. It meant she was in charge of running all of the usual household errands. And if she had to wait, it would be that much longer until she could finish them.

"We can wait," Ruffnut spoke for her. "Got anything to eat in the meantime?"

He beamed at them, his eyes flicking to Astrid for just a moment. "Yeah, actually." Reaching beneath the counter again, he pulled out a tray of pastries and pushed back the thin cloth covering it. Pretty little pastries shaped like axes lined up in neat little rows like they were hanging in a little armory. "Just made these after forge duty," he explained. Astrid had seen him _there_ too. "I guess you could say I was inspired."

She specifically ignored the easily missed glance he gave her. Her newly sharpened axe gained a few pounds at her side.

"Ooh." Ruffnut chirped, instantly filching one from the tray. She bit into it with relish and made an exaggerated expression of orgasmic delight. Her accompanying moan would have made any passerby blush.

"No thanks," Astried replied smoothly when he offered her one of the pastries. "I don't eat sweets." She had to stay in shape. Fitness was an extremely important aspect of maintaining a battle-ready body.

"C'mon, they're shaped like your favorite dragon-slaughtering weapon," he insisted. There was a strange note to the way he said _slaughtering_ and his smile was suddenly tight with something that didn't look like sincerity.

It was odd. She picked up one of the miniature axes. Not taking her eyes off of Hiccup's face, she nibbled at the side of it.

Dammit. It was delicious. She was already thinking of all the extra drills she'd have to do to work the pastry off as she took a second bite.

"See?" Hiccup set the tray back beneath the counter and went back to kneading dough. "Everybody likes sweets."

Astrid glared. He brushed the back of his hand across his cheek, leaving a new white smear behind.

Idiot.


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't sleep well. She couldn't remember ever being a heavy sleeper or a late sleeper, but it only got worse as she grew older. Astrid started at any light sound, her ears listening for the blare of the raid alarm even in unconsciousness. Her hand stayed buried beneath her pillow, wrapped around the handle of her axe. If nothing, she was always ready. Always prepared.

But she didn't sleep well.

That morning, she woke up to what she thought was an explosion. It was only a peel of faint thunder from the storm that had inched near the island but never arrived, but it tore her from her sleep nonetheless. After that, she couldn't force her body back into its distant dream. Judging by the moon missing from the black sky, it was near morning anyways. So she slipped out of bed and into a warm tunic.

Astrid didn't mind being up before the rest of the village. Usually her morning runs and training sessions were started just as the sun was rising, and she waved at passing villagers as she worked. But being awake while everyone else still slept wasn't bad either.

It was a little cathartic, really. Her brain had been buzzing before bed the night before, and it quickly resumed its frustrating noise after her feet hit the floor. She started her run with the intention of running away from the chaotic thoughts. The thuds of her feet against the earth settled into a rhythm that should have exorcised the frustration. But the burn in her chest and the sweat on her brow only became background nuisances for the irritating swirl of distraction.

Hiccup Haddock had saved her life.

The chief's irritating, useless, incessantly odd son had saved her. After the Monstrous Nightmare bit her axe-head clean off its handle and spat out the pieces, she'd been torn between making a clean escape and rescuing her favorite weapon. The first heirloom her mother had ever bestowed her. And if her mom's health didn't start improving soon, it'd be the last one.

Astrid hadn't even known he was around. Raids were chaos, and everyone knew everyone had to fend for themselves. Hiccup almost never left the forge during raids. But in the strange stretch of time between her lunging for her broken axe and the Nightmare opening its jaws to breathe an end to her life, the village baker had somehow found his way her.

"Don't don't don't!" he'd shouted, and the dragon swallowed its fire in surprise.

Narrowing its yellow eyes, the beast shifted his gaze from Astrid to the skinny Viking with no weapon in sight.

Hiccup had held out his hands, showing the Nightmare that he wasn't a threat. She'd thought he couldn't get more idiotic. But on her knees in front of a dragon with a broken axe cradled in her arms, she was in no position to judge. Instead, she watched him with shock and something like indignation as he slowly stepped aside. The dragon followed his motions.

"Hey, buddy," he said to the beast, as if they were old friends. "Don't– don't burn the pretty lady to a crisp. Let's just… just go our separate ways. You don't attack us, we won't attack you."

"Hiccup–!" she'd started to hiss, but then the Nightmare shifted on its clawed feet. Her heart pounded, and she watched wide-eyed from its shadow, terrified for the boy's life. It growled low in its throat, and then– unbelievably– it paced back and forth in front of the chief's son a few times before belching a little flame and taking to the sky.

Astrid still wasn't sure what she saw. Even after Hiccup took the pieces of her axe from her hands and ensured her he'd fix it, and even after the rest of the raid continued without any unusual instances, she couldn't quite understand. Hiccup took on a Nightmare with no weapons. And the dragon listened to his request.

It was bizarre. She'd killed her first Nightmare at fifteen, as the head of her class in dragon training. Hiccup hadn't even finished dragon training. Astrid was the fighter, the warrior, the one Berk could count on, and yet she'd nearly lost her life for a minor distraction. And damned Hiccup Haddock had been the one to save her. The irresponsible, selfish boy who hid in his workshop, in his bakery, with his hands buried in a bowl of dough. The village disappointment.

Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she ran, jaw tight and brain swimming with self-disgust. The ache in her side, the rubbery trembling in her legs– they were her punishment. For slipping up, for allowing herself to be caught in that situation. She had to be better– always had to be better. The village was declining. Her mother was dying. Everything was on the precipice of falling apart, and she had to focus or it would all crumble in front of her. There was no time for relaxing, no time for distractions. The dragons never gave up, and neither would she.

But gods she was so tired. She didn't sleep well.

The sky was still black when she finished her first lap around the village. The sight of the bakery suddenly pulled her up short, and she bent in half, resting her hands on her knees as she panted for breath. The windows were lit. She watched them flickering with light, a beacon of orange and yellow warmth in the chilly, black morning.

How could he live like he did? Content with baking bread, sharpening swords and inventing constantly-malfunctioning gadgets. How could he not feel the weight of a village on his shoulders? How could he stand by so easily while everything else burned? What was his secret?

How could he still manage to smile at her whenever they met?

Her feet took up their pace again, pounding out a reluctant pace. Her eyes, though, didn't move from the bakery. The door was wide open, a warm glow bleeding light into the pre-dawn shadows. Her legs slowed. Stumbled. For a minute, she stood and stared and listened to the buzz of her thoughts.

Then her boots were crunching over gravel. They pointed towards the open door, and then one after another, they pulled her forward. It was a magnetic tug that she didn't quite understand but responded to anyways. She rubbed the back of her hand across her face, scrubbing away sweat. Her fingers pushed frizzy bangs out of her eyes.

Hiccup looked much less awake than she was. She stood in the bakery doorway and watched as he kneaded dough with heavy eyelids and weary sighs. His expression was blank, and every now and then he'd pause to dig the base of his palms against his tired eyes. Somehow she knew that his job forced him to wake up this early every day. Still, it hadn't ever occurred to her that Hiccup might spend every morning like this: alone in the dark hours before sunrise.

"Hey," she breathed, chest burning with exertion.

His head snapped up, fingers freezing in a lump of pale, fluffy dough. "Astrid. Hey." Giving her a surprised grin, he coaxed his arms back into their familiar task. "What are you doing here?"

"Workout," she answered. The delicious heat of the small building called to her, melting her bones and teasing warmth back into her chilled cheeks.

"Cool." He started talking about something else– maybe his to-do list or how weird it was to see her there. But she wasn't really hearing him.

Astrid reached behind her for the door and slowly pulled it shut. Hand lingering on the brass handle, she let her gaze fall to his work table.

"Oh, you can leave it open," Hiccup told her, pointed with a floury finger. "The breeze is kind of nice. It gets hot in here."

She leaned against the wood, head resting back for just a moment as she found the latch and locked it shut. When her eyes flicked back to the chief's son, he'd gone still. He gaped at her, stunned and blinking.

"Astrid…?"

It was a short journey across the tiny room and behind his work table. Weird that it had seemed like such a chasm before. She stood inches apart front of him, closing the space between them when he took a step back and furrowed his brow at her. When exactly had he gotten taller than her?

Her fingers knotted in his hair and dragged his face down to meet hers. The kiss she stole was hard, wanting, more force and teeth than anything. Hiccup broke away, expression caught between shocked and dazed. But when she fisted his shirt in her hands and yanked him against her for a second time, he didn't pull back.

Her heart hammered and fluttered against her ribs like it was trying to escape. Astrid thought it had been hard to breathe during her run, but while kissing Hiccup, forcing oxygen into her lungs became an impossible task. His lips were warm and just a little chapped against hers. His hands hovered awkwardly at her sides until she parted his mouth and teased her tongue inside. Then his palms quickly found her waist.

She tugged at his shirt, holding him tightly in place. He tasted like smoke and honey, and she wondered what sensations she inspired on his tongue. Fire razed through her veins. The hair on the back of her neck stood at attention, following the shiver that raced down her spine. Her body recognized absolute pleasure before she even identified it as such.

Astrid needed this. Needed to take something for herself without questioning whether or not it was the right thing to do, how it would affect her family or the village, if she'd regret it later. She needed to understand how he could not care, and she needed him to teach her.

A pleased little whimper slipped from her throat. And it was like a switch flipped. Hiccup's hands became a little firmer at her waist, and he turned her just slightly. Before she could question it, he was pressing her back against his work table. She felt the edge of it digging into her lower spine. Undoing the knots of her fingers, she scraped up and down Hiccup's chest. She could feel the places that were still scrawny, especially the edges of his ribs whenever he gasped for air. But she could also feel muscle closer to his shoulders and sternum. Almost of their own volition, her hands tore his shirt upwards in an attempt to feel more.

There were obviously still questions forming in his mouth– she could taste them as much as she could feel them coming. But he allowed her to pull his shirt up and over his head. It fell to the floor at their feet, and then she was spreading her fingers over the hot skin of his chest. His palm found the curve of her lower back and shoved their bodies together so that his stomach was pressed tight against hers. Astrid explored his shoulders, his arms, his back. Her nails dug into his flesh when he sucked her lower lip into his mouth and gently nibbled.

Something dug into her collarbone. It was just a faint nuisance at first, but the harder they tried to meld their bodies together, the more the thing stabbed into her. After a moment, she summoned the strength to lean back and search for the source of the bruising. She found it quickly– a black charm of some sort hanging from a leather cord around Hiccup's neck.

"What's that?" she exhaled, brow knit together with curiosity.

When he realized that she was staring at the vaguely triangular black stone, a shadow crossed his face. The hand that had been so nicely kneading the flesh of her hip like bread dough lifted to cover the charm. He grabbed the necklace and lifted it over his head, tossing it on the counter behind him.

"Just a necklace," he answered, and then green eyes searched her face (warily?) for a half second before his mouth came crashing against hers once more. There was a new fierceness to this kiss, an urgency that made her almost feel like he was trying to distract her.

And it was working. Her thoughts dissolved, and the black little stone flitted from her mind. When his arms wrapped around her and lifted her feet off the ground, every other fleeting worry flew away. Hiccup eased her up onto the work table, clumsily knocking his bowl of dough aside to make space. Through some unspoken instinct, her knees parted, and his narrow hips slid between her thighs. Her ankles locked around his back, and she detoured a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his neck.

Hiccup groaned, and the noise was so unbelievably exciting. That hidden place at her core gave an almost painful twinge in response. It was almost laughable– she was throbbing with desire, growing warm and wet and dizzy, but he was still being excruciatingly gentlemanly. His hands refused to slip from the safe expanses of skin between her breasts and her hips. They squeezed her waist, awkward but obviously aching to travel elsewhere.

Astrid took control. Grabbing his wrists, she dragged his touch to the frantic rise and fall of her breasts. Then she tightened her knees at his hips and pulled him forward until her skirt was crushed fabric in her lap and she could feel him there. The press of him was nice. But the hard length of heat burning against her was indescribable.

He groped her breasts hesitantly, experimentally. She couldn't help but notice that he approached her body like a machine– learning the survey of it before testing her, studying her, seeing what made her hiss and what made her moan low in her throat. When he scratched a nail over the nipple trying to harden through her bindings, a surprised expletive of arousal leapt from her lips. Her hips surged forward, into that scalding thing at his groin, and then Hiccup was the one making noises of pleasure.

Astrid's eyes fluttered open. The sky outside was lightening just a fraction, almost like the day was waking up with her. It wasn't just her body coming to life– it was the newness of experience. For a moment, there wasn't a village outside the bakery to protect and defend. It was the knowledge between her and Hiccup and the fires they were both attempting to contain. She knew how reproduction worked– she was well aware that their most intimate parts were separated by just two thin layers of fabric. And instead of fearing for the island for once, she was afraid of how incredible it felt to have him rocking slowly into her.

Her mouth traveled further, the freckles on his shoulders like little electric sparks on her tongue. What would it be like? To have a man there? Hiccup– for it to be him? He would be gentle, she knew, because even with the rough way their hips surged against each other, his hands were steady and soft on her breasts. He would be patient and studious and work out her frustrations with his hands the same way he worked dough. Maybe with him, she could feel like a woman. Not a warrior.

"Astrid," he whispered into her hair. "Astrid." Each burst of her name against her forehead was matched by a jolt between her thighs. Then his hands slid back down to her waist. To safe territory. "As much as I'm going to hate myself later for saying this… You have to go."

Her hands slid over the warm skin of his arms, unwilling to lose the smooth friction. "What if I wanted you? Right now."

All of the air seemed to escape him in one choked sigh. But then he pulled back just barely so that she couldn't reach him with her mouth. "I… I like you, Astrid. But I don't want to do that with you like this. Here."

She wet her lips, eyes searching his cringing expression. His breathing was just as heavy as hers, hot panting as they both chased their breath. And she found the sincerity in his gaze, the reluctance.

She realized that apparently Hiccup Haddock cared more than he ever let on.


	3. Chapter 3

The bakery was warm. Too warm for the layers of clothing and the winter fur wrapped around her shoulders. Sweat gathered under her arms and between her breasts and in the back of her knees. Her grip on the chair pushed back against the far wall was hard and unyielding, and her jaw was beginning to ache from how tightly she clenched it.

"Why did you give up?" Her voice was the coldest thing in the room. Her thumbnail scratched at a whorl in the wooden seat.

Hiccup didn't glance up, brushing his shirtsleeve against his forehead before returning to the dough on his table. His bangs were dark with sweat too, both sticking to his face and jutting out at odd angles. "It was overworked. If I'd baked it, it would've been too tough. Better to just start over with a new batch."

"Not the bread," she breathed. Her tongue slid over her upper lip and tasted salt. "Dragon training. Why did you quit?"

He froze. His shoulders stopped rolling, his hands going still in the pile of soft, pale dough. For a half second, it was just the crackle of the flames in the oven popping between them. Then he seemed to come back to himself. His forearms flexed as he began kneading again.

"I sucked at it," he answered flatly. "You were there. You saw."

"You didn't try," she retorted. She couldn't understand why that made her so angry.

"All I ever did was try," he muttered. This time his voice wasn't toneless. It was quiet and bitter. Then louder, he said, "I was useless. I got in the way."

She didn't lie to make him feel better. "You were fine. You were obnoxious and in the way and you spent more time chatting up Gobber than actually training." Finally releasing her hold on the chair, she threw her hands up at her sides. "And then one day you didn't show. You just… quit."

"I knew I wasn't going to be killing any dragons." Hiccup stepped away from the table to retrieve a pan from beneath the counter. He set it down on the table with a little more force than necessary and then began breaking the dough into little pieces. Dusting his hands with flour, he rolled the blobs into small spheres. He still wouldn't look at her.

"We knew that," she pressed. "But that never stopped you before. You ran around with your inventions and gadgets and swore that you were going to take down Nightmares just like your dad. What changed?"

The tendons in his neck flexed. She was touching it— that nerve that was so raw. How he'd hidden it from her for four years, she'd never understand. Had she just not been paying attention. Had anyone? How had he gotten this far without anyone questioning it?

"Show me the necklace," she whispered.

The ball of dough in his hands slipped out and fell to the floor. Hiccup didn't pick it up. He laid his hands flat on the work table and exhaled sharply, glaring out the window. "I told you. It's personal."

"I saw it once before," she reminded him. The heat of the memory was a separate warmth from the broil of the bakery. He finally looked at her, and that morning passed wordlessly between them.

That morning when they'd been the only two on the island awake. It was dark— the sun hadn't risen yet. When she'd gone to the bakery instead of finishing her workout, and when he'd pressed her back against the table he was working on now. His hands had rested so properly and so comfortably on her waist, but she'd scraped over his body with searching fingers. She'd pulled his shirt over his head and let it tangle around her wrists before it fell to the floor.

His lips were slow against hers, even though she tried with all her might to deepen the kiss. He was confused— obviously eager, but baffled by her behavior. In her efforts to rile him further, she dug her nails into his shoulders and pulled him close. That's when she felt it digging into her collarbone.

"I don't want to talk about it," he warned her lowly. She wondered when the chief's scrawny boy had turned into a lean and handsome young man. Someone who could summon authority in his voice.

"You did it, didn't you?" A niggling thought told her to back off, not to press against that exposed nerve, but she had to know. "All those years ago. The Night Fury."

His gaze turned to ice. His hands clenched into fists on the table top. Scowling, he slowly dropped his gaze down to the floor. "The bola launcher worked. It went down a little farther than Raven Point, but it went down."

Her gasp was drawn through her teeth. Somehow she'd known for a while now, but hearing him admit to it still shocked her in a way she didn't expect. Astrid sat forward in her chair.

"I found it tied up in the woods. It was already half dead, all I had to do was finish the job." Hiccup's head shook just slightly. "I was ready to do it. I was gonna— gonna cut out its heart. Take it back to my dad. He was gonna be so proud of me." He laughed short and bitterly. "So proud."

"What happened?" she dared to murmur.

"I couldn't." He sniffed and shrugged, wiping his face on his forearm. Flour smeared over his cheek and upper lip. "I couldn't do it. I cut it free and let it go."

"But…" Astrid stared at him, this man she'd known her whole life. And yet— somehow she'd never known him at all. "It never came back."

"It died anyways." Pushing away from the table, he picked the dropped dough off of the floor and forcefully tossed it onto the counter. His expression was hard as flint. "I ruined its tailfin. It got caught in that cove down by the stream and couldn't get out. It eventually starved."

Speechless, she watched him leave the kitchen and walk towards her. He reached beneath the collar of his shirt. Grasping his secret tight in his fist, he pulled the necklace over his head. Then he dropped it in her waiting hands.

The Night Fury scale shimmered just barely in the dim firelight. It was blacker than the sky had been in those moments before dawn when she'd kissed Hiccup like she needed him. It was light, surprisingly rough, and no bigger than her thumbprint. She was hesitant to touch it, like it was made of some precious metal.

"I went back a week or so later looking for my knife. I found scales. When I followed them to the cove, I saw its body." Hiccup swallowed, the noise rough and painful-sounding. "It took a few days to dig a hole deep enough to bury it, but I didn't want—"

He cut off then. His gaze flicked away from her, staring harshly somewhere over her head.

"You should've told someone," she told him, shaking her head. "I mean— a Night Fury. You actually took it down."

"I'm not exactly proud of it," he suddenly hissed, snatching the necklace back. Slipping the cord back over his head, he hid the scale beneath his shirt once more. "That dragon looked at me, and I… I saw…"

Astrid stood, folding her arms uncomfortably over her chest. "What? What did you see?"

Hiccup kept his gaze on the ground as he turned back to her. "I saw fear. And intelligence. A soul." His hands gestured vaguely in front of him, trying to grasp at something but just catching empty air. "Astrid, they're not just mindless beasts. They feel stuff, just like we do. And once I realized that, I couldn't…" He sighed, arms dropping to his sides. "I just couldn't anymore."

"Hiccup, they terrorize Berk." She gestured outside the bakery, to the homes that had been rebuilt thousands of times over. "They steal and burn and kill."

The chief's son returned to his work table. He went back to rolling dough into balls and fitting it in a bun pan. She watched his long deft fingers shape the pieces and tried to picture them wrapped around an axe or a sword.

"Sounds just like any Viking I've ever met," he muttered. And then she knew that the conversation was done, and he was done, and all the notions she'd had about him and his selfishness were done. She didn't know this boy who baked and took down Night Furies and hid his shame beneath his shirt collar. She didn't know Hiccup Haddock at all.


End file.
